


I've Seen God in Some Dirty Faces

by servilesammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Dark Dean Winchester, Dominant Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Love Bites, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Submissive Sam Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servilesammy/pseuds/servilesammy
Summary: “Yeah, that's it Sammy," Sam's big brother mutters in his ear.Their room is dark, illuminated only by the faint, blinking neon light of the motel sign outside declaring "vacancy" filtering in through the window. Dean is spread above him, naked, muscular thighs draped over Sam's, pinning him to their shared mattress like a sacrifice.No wait, Sam thinks, that's not right; this is an offering.





	I've Seen God in Some Dirty Faces

**Author's Note:**

> "I've been alone in a million places and I've seen God in some dirty faces and all I could think about was you." -Crywolf, The Hunger in Your Haunt
> 
> Find me on tumblr at servilesammy

“Yeah, that's it Sammy," Sam's big brother mutters in his ear. 

Their room is dark, illuminated only by the faint, blinking neon light of the motel sign outside declaring "vacancy" filtering in through the window. Dean is spread above him, naked, muscular thighs draped over Sam's, pinning him to their shared mattress like a sacrifice. 

_No wait,_ Sam thinks, _that's not right; this is an offering._

Both his bony wrists are crossed leisurely above his head, tacked together and fastened to the bed by just one of Dean's capable hands, not that he'd ever dare to move them. There's a thin trail of fresh blood that drips from the sharp angle of Sam's bare hip bone to the linens under him, gathering in a pure crimson pool that is so at odds with the crisp white of new sheets. Sam watches it blossom there with a detached sense of amazement, tucking the image away in his mind like flowers pressed in a book.

Sam's breath catches when one of Dean's thick fingers sweeps through the slick mess, followed by a whimper when his brother swipes straight along the cut, just one vertical line, that continuously wells up with blood. When Dean's stained finger lifts to his mouth, Sam's eyes follow the movement, entranced, in some combination of horror and intrigue and maybe just a touch of arousal. 

Dean's tongue drags along the length, a gentle groan building in his throat when he tastes Sam at his most basic, just blood behind skin. Dean meets his little brother's gaze and his eyes narrow, and Sam's heart stutters in his chest. Dean's hand drops back to the wetness on the younger's hip, he draws two digits now through the puddle and raises them to smear across Sam's lips. The vivid red stains oh so right and Sam opens, allows deadly fingers to fuck into his mouth, spreading the coppery taste across his tongue. 

Sam moans around his brother's intrusion, lapping up anything given to him. Once Dean's cleaned off, he takes hold of the knife he'd previously discarded in preference of teasing Sam's wound. The blade is gently bloodied, and Sam's breath speeds in anticipation when he sees it poised again over his hip. Dean doesn't hesitate, pushing the sharpness into pale skin and adding two angled cuts near the first one. Sam groans, squirming just a little under the sting.

Dean looks into Sam's eyes voraciously when the tip of the knife lands again, sometimes creating dashes and sometimes dots but always parting the pale skin, always exposing Sam's insides to the outside. Sam squeezes his eyes shut against the intensity but Dean growls a warning at him. He opens again to find Dean enraptured with his bloody labor, the hand not grasping the knife clasped bruisingly hard on Sam's wrists. Sam whines with each eager slash, panting out breaths through his mouth. 

When Dean's done he sits up straight, admiring his work, and Sam peers down. He regards the 8 lines and two dots that spell "D. W.", breath forced out of him when he recognizes Dean's proclamation of property. His heart is hammering uncontrollably already by the time meets Dean's proud eyes, but beyond the pride they're... hungry… and it only makes Sam's heart ache more.

Dean ducks his head to the open wounds and terrorizes them with his tongue and teeth. Sam gasps, startled, but it turns into a bitten-off moan quicker than he'd like to admit. He's arching his hips into Dean and Dean chuckles and it feels so bad so good and oh god... how long has he been hard? Sam freezes, doe-eyes frozen in the headlights that are _Dean_ , and he doesn't know there's still dried blood on his lips. It doesn't matter though, because then Dean's chasing his little brother's lips and tongue-fucking more of that killer red onto him, into him when their mouths meet, hot and wet and dirty and wrong.

Sam can't stop himself, he's grinding up into Dean's equally fervent embrace, each of big brother's possessive growls met with equally needy whines. 

"Dean, Dean, Dean, De..." Sam's chanting, the friction pushing him closer, and then Dean's releasing his wrists but only so he can pull on little brother's shaggy hair, yanking his head back forcefully and exposing a pale neck. Dean bites across it, worrying nice little claiming bruises along every inch. He's grinding his hard dick right into Sam, the head sometimes slipping through the steadily pooling blood, each time coxing another groan out of both brothers. 

Sam's right on the edge, head pulled back and smeared with his own blood, and in an instant there's the familiar cold press of a knife against his throat. He comes just like that, with a strangled gasp under his big brother, and disconnectedly moans through the aftershocks. He cracks an eye in time to watch Dean fall apart and groan his release. He hisses when Dean's come splashes across his collection of cuts, stinging. Dean collapses on top of him, throwing the knife on the other bed. 

They catch their breath, sweaty, bloody, come-covered skin sticking together. Eventually they'll get up, clean and dress wounds as well as any professional, and fall into bed together for a few hours of sleep before Dad gets back, but for now Sam's content to count Dean's freckles in the fading neon light.


End file.
